Later
by lmx
Summary: What might have happened after Friendly Fire. This is the first fanfiction I've written, so any advice on how to improve it would be gratefully received.


**Later…**

Spike couldn't settle. He'd changed the channels on his TV a dozen times and had finally taken to pacing the short length of his living room, while he tried to decide what to do. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to go round to her apartment, to tell her she'd done the right thing and to comfort her. He suspected that's what she'd want him to do too but he knew it was the last thing she'd allow. Too bloody proud – that was her problem - too afraid of showing any weakness, even to him.

He picked up a magazine and attempted to read it but it was no use. She must be feeling dreadful: first Kenny and now Sarah. There'd be no point telling her that they hadn't really left her; to Lynda it was rejection, pure and simple. He thought about calling, but she'd only want to fight and, much as he enjoyed arguing with her, he knew it would just make things worse. She'd want to push him away too.

Spike had resumed his pacing, when he heard the key turn in the lock. A wave of relief passed over him. As much as he encouraged his wild-boy image, there was nothing Spike enjoyed more that a night in with Lynda and now, when she was sad, she had come to him. Perhaps she was finally accepting that she needed him. He leapt back onto his couch and picked up the magazine he'd been successfully not reading earlier, trying to look nonchalant; it would only annoy her if he made a fuss.

Lynda adjusted the pile of papers in her hand, as she put the key back into her pocket. She took a deep breath and entered Spike's flat. "Spike?" she called out.

"Uh huh"

"I was at the newsroom and thought I might as well drop the notes off for the hospital story on my way home. That way you can make a start tonight and get down there early tomorrow." She turned into his living room to find him sprawled out on the sofa, reading a magazine and apparently not taking a blind bit of notice of her. Lynda was annoyed.

"Lynda," Spike drawled, "it's 9.30 in the evening. I finished work four hours ago and don't intend to start again for at least another ten." He still hadn't looked up from that damn magazine.

"Spike, do I have to remind you of our sales figures? If we don't raise them and quickly, Bobby Campbell is going to pull the plug. I want the info on the hospital story on my desk by 10 a.m. tomorrow, so you'd better start working now!" Her voice had risen to a squeak by the end of the sentence but Spike didn't respond. Lynda decided to try another tack. She lowered her voice: "I'd have thought that I could rely on you of all people to offer me a little support about now."

Spike lowered the magazine and turned his head to look at his girlfriend. "Lynda, can I remind you that you dumped me today? Cancelled all scheduled dates. I'm happy to do the work, Boss, but don't you think you're being a bit unreasonable, asking me to do it now?" He slouched back down and resumed staring at his magazine. He still hadn't managed to get passed page one.

This was not going at all as Lynda had hoped. She walked further into the room, until she was standing directly in front of Spike and placed the pile of papers heavily on to his belly. "I want that information by ten, Spike." she hissed. With that, she turned on her heel and marched towards the door, feeling worse now than when she'd arrived.

This was not going at all as Spike had hoped. He knew she'd have rejected any attempts to console her, but playing it cool had not been a great success either. He'd have to try something else.

"Have you eaten?" He called out. Lynda paused by the door.

"Have you eaten?" He asked again.

Lynda shrugged. "I had a Twix at the newsroom."

Spike let out a sigh, concern written all over his face. Lynda was pleased with his reaction but she wasn't about to show it. He came over to her and began to take her coat off her shoulders. "Sit down" he muttered.

Once he'd reheated the contents of a Tupperware container, he brought it to Lynda and sat next to her while she ate. He turned on the T.V. and the two of them sat in what could have passed for companionable silence.

"So, you fired Sarah." Spike broke the silence.

"Mmm" was the only response and the silence returned. Oh well, he'd tried. If she didn't want to talk, he knew from experience that he couldn't make her. It looked as though this really would be a quiet night in. However, one thing puzzled him.

"You're not surprised that I know?"

"Nope." He waited for further explanation but it was not forthcoming.

"Lynda…?" She looked at him inquiringly. "How did you know that I knew you'd fired her?"

"I was hiding behind my desk when she read the letter to you." Lynda was matter-of-fact. "She wanted me to hear."

"Huh?" Spike was not following this at all.

Lynda realised she was going to have to spell it out to him. "Sarah thinks I give you a hard time. She wants me to stop."

For some reason, Spike's heart began to hammer in his chest and his voice caught in his throat when he spoke, despite his efforts to seem aloof. "And are you going to?"

Lynda sat up straight and looked into his eyes for a long time before she spoke, obviously thinking carefully about his question. "Probably not" she replied honestly and relaxed back into the sofa.

"Figures." mumbled Spike, picking up her plate and taking it into the kitchen.

He tried to make sense of his feelings, while he did the washing up. He was definitely disappointed. Part of him had hoped, when she told him what Sarah had said, that they'd come to a turning point in their relationship. He'd hoped that Lynda was going to really commit to it and begin to trust him. Yes, he was definitely disappointed. Yet, at the same time, he was also relieved. Their relationship wasn't perfect, but it did work. It worked better than just about any other relationship he'd ever had with any other person. Maybe they fought too much, but the fights were great fun, now that they'd stopped trying to score points by hurting each other. No, the status quo was good, most of the time; he was definitely relieved she'd decided to maintain it. And yet, earlier that day, when she'd thought he was seeing someone else and had publicly dumped him (again), it had hurt. He was definitely disappointed…

Spike was so caught up in trying to make sense of his turbulent feelings that he didn't notice Lynda walking up behind him, until she wrapped her arms around him and placed her head between his shoulder blades.

"If I didn't give you a hard time," she murmured into his denim jacket, "how would you know I love you?"

It was hammer time again, as Spike's heart started pounding and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Now _that _was unexpected! She'd told him she loved him exactly three times before and each of those times, he'd said it first. An unprovoked declaration of love from Lynda Day was an unprecedented occurrence and Spike had no idea how to handle it. He decided to do nothing. Rather, he stood at the sink, feeling her breath against his back, feeling utter contentment and feeling a little ridiculous, since he was still wearing a pair of marigolds.

Lynda, too, decided to enjoy the moment for a while. She felt safe, holding on to Spike, and Lynda Day rarely felt safe.

Eventually, she peeled herself away from him. The moment couldn't last forever. "OK then Spike," she spoke breezily, making her way out of the kitchen, "thanks for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow and make sure you've got that information for me."

Spike was finding it difficult to keep up and she'd already got one arm into her coat by the time he caught up with her at the door. "You're leaving?" He asked incredulously. Lynda arched an eyebrow, a smile playing around her lips. "Any reason to stay?" she asked coyly. Spike pulled her towards him and kissed her. When they parted, she had the same coy look on her face. "Well, Spike?" she asked.

Spike looked into her eyes for a long time, before he spoke, obviously giving her question a lot of thought. Then he grinned and pulled her to him again: "I want you to give me a hard time."


End file.
